


Appeler un chat, un chat

by Sol_Invictus



Category: Enola Holmes Series - Nancy Springer, Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen, mention of Enola Holmes, takes place between books #5 and #6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-05 15:56:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5381180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sol_Invictus/pseuds/Sol_Invictus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock decides to investigate Florence Nightingale's claims about finishing schools.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Appeler un chat, un chat

**Author's Note:**

> "Appeler un chat un chat" (lit. _to call a cat a cat_ ) is a French idiom meaning that one should say things as they truly are. I always have had this headcanon that Eudora spoke only in French with her sons.  
> This fic takes place just after the end of book #5 and before the beginning of book #6.

Sherlock Holmes was a curious man by nature. It was one of the reasons that led him to become a private detective. Everything he didn’t understand or didn’t know about piqued his curiosity. In consequence, Sherlock had to admit that Florence Nightingale’s claims about boarding schools had roused his interest. Was it true? Was it really as horrible as this remarkable woman claimed it to be? An investigation on the matter was needed, no matter how…difficult, shall we say, his researches may prove to be.

*

Seated in the most comfortable chair of the room, Mycroft accepted the glass of whisky with a light growl. Upsetting his routine always got him in a bad mood.

“So, Sherlock, what in Heaven’s name has she done now?”

He was obviously talking about Enola Holmes, youngest sibling of the Holmes family and currently running wild in London just under their blasted nose.

“Nothing yet, as far as I know”, answered Sherlock. “Actually it is for another matter that you’re here.”

His older brother raised a surprised eyebrow. The detective took a small book from his library and handed it to Mycroft with a blank face. With a wordless exclamation, the indolent man put the object on a pile of papers nearby as if it had burned his hand.

“Sherlock! What on Earth do all of this mean?!”

“Read it”, the youngest said calmly, “and you will understand why Enola has ran away.”

His words brought Mycroft’s piercing gaze on him. Silence stretched between them. With a sigh, the oldest gave in and picked the book up. Sherlock bit back his urge to laugh at Mycroft as his face went from angry red to pale white during his reading. Which was not very fair of the detective, since he had the very same reactions a day ago during his first reading.

“And I thought _our_ boarding school was Hell on Earth…”

“You see now why Enola has vehemently refused to obey”, answered Sherlock. “She’s running for her life.”

“And as fast as scandals in London”, grunted the older brother.

The detective rolled his eyes and put on a serious face.

“Mycroft, _appelons un chat, un chat._ Enola is the daughter of a suffragette and the sister of a consulting detective and of a politician. She will _never_ become a respectable married woman.”

The oldest sibling let out a resigned sigh.

“She will never fit society’s expectations”, Sherlock went on. “It runs in the family. Father himself had never managed to become the narrow-minded and pious country squire Kineford expected of him. Mother prefers to draw wildflowers with Gypsies rather than hosting tea parties.”

“Yes, I see, I see”, interrupted Mycroft with irritation. “Enola will never go to a finishing school and I will never see a normal Holmes in this family. I gathered that, thank you.”

Silence fell again. The eldest Holmes fidgeted with the book he was reading earlier, refusing to meet his brother’s gaze. Sherlock could feel that his brother was debating with himself. He hoped that the outcome would mean no more boarding school for Enola. He wanted more, so much more, than defiant looks and carefully chosen words from his sister! But Mycroft was as stubborn as their mother.

Finally, after almost ten minutes of silence, the eldest Holmes let out an exasperated sigh that sounded like victory to the detective.

“I suppose… I may have been wrong about Enola.”

Sherlock allowed himself a smug grin when Mycroft added a mumbled:

“Yes, let’s call a cat a cat: that blasted girl has taken it all after _you_!”


End file.
